


Why Steve Rogers Should Just Stay in Bed

by trill_gutterbug



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bed Humping, Dirty Talk, Jizzing in Pants, M/M, Mile High Dirty Talk Club, PWP, Phone Sex, Steve Rogers has ERECTION ISSUES But Not the Bad Kind, Such Ridiculous Lack of Plot, Tony Stark is a Big Ol' Bag o' Sluts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2013-10-06
Packaged: 2017-12-28 13:23:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/992478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trill_gutterbug/pseuds/trill_gutterbug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Steve has an erection emergency, Tony is not particularly sympathetic, and the Mile High Club is offering trial memberships.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Steve Rogers Should Just Stay in Bed

**Author's Note:**

> (I'm finally on tumblr under trillgutterbug! Come say hi!)

“Steve, oh my God, I can’t,” Tony groaned. “I’m literally over the middle of the Atlantic right now.”  
  
Steve’s voice was curiously plaintive, maybe a little whiny. “Can’t you just… I don’t know, jump out the window and fly home?”  
  
Tony dropped his head back against the seat and looked out the window. They were well above cloud cover, cruising at a neat thirty-seven-thousand. It was all blue and crisp up here.  
  
He tucked his chin down so he could hold the phone against his shoulder. “You have no idea how much I want to. Pep’s got the whole conference room stacked eight feet high with paperwork, and there’s at least three old fuckers waiting to rip my balls off over Skype in about fifteen minutes.”  
  
“What’s Skype?” asked Steve, who had mastered writing html in a day but still managed to scald himself with Tony's Keurig every morning.  
  
“Well, actually, in this case, a misnomer. It’s not Skype, it’s my own version, but Skype just has this nice ring to it, don’t you think? It rolls off the tongue, and it sounds sort of dirty, but not in a sexy way, and actually-- So, hey, speaking of sexy…” He paused, waited for Steve to grunt in acknowledgement. “What’s with the mid-day booty call?”  
  
Steve obviously shuffled around for a moment; there was rustling and muttering, like he couldn’t get comfortable. “I can’t just want to have sex with you in the middle of the day?”  
  
Tony grinned, helpless. He was so glad Pepper was still in the conference room; she’d know in an instant who he was talking to and about what. “Yeah, sure as shit you can. You just usually… don’t. I mean, not when I’m not even there, and you’re supposed to be doing something official and patriotic.”  
  
There was a thumping noise. Tony straightened up. “Steve, are you… banging your head on something?”  
  
“Yes,” said Steve.  
  
“Why?”  
  
“It’s okay, never mind. We’ll have sex when you get back.”  
  
“Uh, whoa, no. Who have you been taking lessons in passive aggression from?”  
  
Steve sighed. “I didn't even know that was a thing.”  
  
“Just because you don’t know doesn’t mean you can’t use it, sister.” Tony got up from his big wing-backed luxury leather recliner with built-in beer cooler and butt massage function, and headed for the door at the back of the lounge. “Something’s got your panties in a twist. Tell me about it.” He paused, one foot through the door. “Wait, is it actual panties? Please tell me it’s actual panties.”  
  
“What? No!” Steve sounded scandalized. “Why would I be wearing panties?”  
  
“Ohhhh, just wait and see,” Tony murmured. “I promise. But another time. Seriously, spill.”  
  
Steve hesitated for a long moment, long enough for Tony to kick the door shut behind himself and flop down onto the king-sized bed. The comforter was goose down and the sheets were cotton, he noticed; weirdly, they were printed all over with the Stark logo. Probably something to complain about.  
  
“It’s just this benefit tonight,” Steve said finally.  
  
“Yeah…” Tony checked his watch, and adjusted mentally for time zones. “It’s in, like, an hour, right?”  
  
“Something like that. I want to have sex before I go.”  
  
Tony rolled over, grinned into the goose down. “Oh yeah? A little tense, are we? Or have you been sitting around watching porn all day?”  
  
“No.” Steve didn’t sound nearly as indignant as he had the first time Tony showed him how to navigate youporn and xtube. “I just… um, it’s nicer-- to be relaxed.”  
  
“Hey, did you have this problem before? Back in the forties, I mean. You were up onstage all the time. Did you have to bang four chorus girls before you started, or what?”  
  
“Ermmm,” Steve said. “No, not exactly.”  
  
“Oh, not _exactly_.”  
  
“No, I mean--!” Steve was starting to sound a little exasperated. “It’s different now. It’s no big deal, I don’t know why you’re making this into a big deal.”  
  
Tony shimmed up the bed to bury his head amongst the pillows. “I like it when you ask for sex,” he replied honestly. “I’m bummed I’m not there to make all your filthy fantasies come true, and I don’t handle disappointment well. Tends to make me twitchy and demanding.”  
  
“Yes, I see,” said Steve in tones of great scientific discovery.  
  
“Alright, so, let’s make this a mutually beneficial disappointment. I’ll get you off from here, and you tell me all about why you’re suddenly desperate for a good deep dicking.”  
  
“Oh, my God,” Steve groaned, in a distinctly non-sexy way.  
  
“Come on,” Tony cajoled. “Tell me where you want it, baby.”  
  
“I want it here in bed with me.”  
  
Tony perked up. “You’re in bed already?”  
  
“I am now.”  
  
“Me too.”  
  
Steve paused. “I thought you were on a plane.”  
  
“There’s a bed. Hold on.” Tony took the phone away from his ear, turned it around, and snapped a selfie with a big thumbs up and a shit-eating show of teeth. “Proof on the way,” he told Steve.  
  
A moment later, Steve said, “That’s just silly.”  
  
“I know, it’s the Stark logos, right? Somebody’s getting fired.”  
  
“No, I mean the bed in general. I can’t even see the sides.”  
  
“Yeah, it’s a king. We need big beds to accommodate our big dicks, Steve.”  
  
Steve sighed from somewhere within the massive expanse of his chest, and then turned it into a guttural sort of moan, growly at the edges. Tony's shiver came up from the soles of his feet. “What are you thinking about?” he murmured.  
  
“Putting my ankles behind my head,” Steve said.  
  
“Hmm.” Tony popped the button on his jeans. He was wearing a Van Halen t-shirt with holes in the hems, but Pepper had insisted that he at least attempt to look professional for the board’s conference call, so there was a suit jacket overtop of that. It had to go.  
  
“Hold on,” Tony said, “let me just-- just hold on.” He dropped the phone and peeled out of both shirts, chucked them on the floor, shimmied his pants down around his thighs. “Alright, hey,” he said to Steve, cradling the phone between jaw and pillow. Two hands might be needed, here. “So, you were saying?”  
  
“Remember that time we had sex in the bathroom? And I put you up on the counter?”  
  
Tony hummed appreciatively. There was a reason he tended to go for the body-builder types when he fucked guys; no chick he’d ever met could put him up against a wall and fuck him with his ankles crossed.  
  
“I was thinking about what a nice view that was.” Steve’s voice had dropped nearly to a whisper, like he was afraid of someone listening in. Which gave Tony an idea. He covered the phone’s mouthpiece with one thumb, and touched his earpiece. “Jarvis, could you record what’s going on in Steve’s room right now?” he whispered. “Assuming that’s where he is.”  
  
“And to which filing system shall I commit this most recent invasion of privacy, sir?” Jarvis drawled in his inner ear, a strange dichotomy against Steve’s increasingly heavy breathing. “‘TnA,’ or ‘Captain America Appreciation Society'?”  
  
“Uh, new folder. Quit bugging me, I’m in the middle of something. Do whatever.”  
  
He uncovered the mouthpiece, and tuned back into Steve saying, “--sucked your dick at the same time, if I could bend like that.”  
  
“Maybe if I was laying down,” Tony mused, “instead of leaning against the mirror.”  
  
“Let’s try that,” Steve breathed. “I’ve seen-- I mean, I’m sure it’s been done.”  
  
“Porn addiction,” Tony sang.  
  
“Shut up. It’s-- it’s just really something else, watching other people, I mean, I didn’t ever think it would be…”  
  
“Legal?”  
  
“That too.”  
  
Tony cupped his cock through his boxers. It was half-hard, just listening to Steve mumble and pant. “So, Jarvis is probably going to tell you this anyway, because he’s all into personal privacy and shit, but I’m recording you right now.”  
  
Steve’s breath caught. “You are?”  
  
“Hell, yeah. I was just wondering… would you mind if I watched? Like, right now?”  
  
“You can do that?”  
  
Tony chuckled. “Indeed I can, young padawan.”  
  
“Oh, hey!” said Steve brightly, because they’d finally watched Star Wars last week (all of them, ugh, in preparation for the franchise reboot). “Yeah, go ahead. I don’t mind.”  
  
“Sweet.” Tony let Jarvis do the fiddly bits, get the feed going on the big screen at the end of the bed. Unfortunately, the camera angle wasn’t as tight and close as he’d have liked; there were three of them in Steve’s room, but two were in high corners, and the third was across from the door.  It afforded him a wide angle of the bed, where Steve was stretched out on his belly, but nothing up-close and personal.  
  
“I just had an idea,” Tony said to the room at large, because Jarvis would play it through the speakers in Steve’s bedroom. “I want a better view. DUM-E has a camera built in to his arm, if you just go down to the workshop--”  
  
“No!” Steve protested, still into his phone. “Are you crazy? No way.”  
  
“Aw, what? Come on, don’t be such a prude.”  
  
“I’m not a--” Steve huffed. Tony watched him make a fist against the mattress. “I’m not a prude. That just seems… weird.”  
  
“Why? You don’t want those little whirring claws all up in your business? He wouldn’t touch unless I told him to.”  
  
“Oh, my God,” Steve said, but Tony watched his hips press down into the bed.  
  
“Okay, another time,” said Tony quickly. “I can see you now, by the way. I really like those pants.”  
  
Steve craned his head back to look over his own shoulder. “Aren’t they yours?”  
  
“Yup.” They were also… really, really tight. And old. And threadbare. Fuck.  
  
Tony slipped his hands down a little further between his legs, cupped his balls and rubbed them once, slowly. “You look good on your stomach,” he said. “Can you spread your legs a bit?”  
  
Steve complied, sliding his knees a foot apart. God, his _ass_.  
  
“Aw, yeah,” said Tony. “Fuck the bed a little. Go on, just… Yeah, there you go.”  
  
He watched Steve’s ass grind slowly up and down, flexing all the way along his thighs.  “That feel good?” Tony asked.  
  
“Uh huh. A little dry.”  
  
“You know where the lube is, go on.”  
  
Steve dropped his phone and leaned over the side of the bed, pulling out a cardboad box. Tony had to bite his fist not to laugh. If Steve could have wedged all the dildos and cuffs and toys and magazines that Tony had bought him under his mattress, like a twelve-year-old, he would have.  
  
Steve popped the top on a bottle and flopped back down, fumbling with the phone. “Just talk,” Tony told him. “You don’t need the phone.”  
  
Steve dutifully tossed it away, and settled back on his stomach. “Now what?” he asked, in a coquettish sort of way that meant he already knew exactly what.  
  
“Get your hand wet,” Tony told him. “Really fucking wet. Fill it up.”  
  
Steve did, careful not to drip on the bed.  
  
“Stay on your stomach. Put your hand in your pants.”  
  
It was really fucking interesting, watching Steve obey. Watching his ass lift, and his hips roll, and his knees spread wider. He stilled with his right hand hidden beneath himself. “Okay,” he said. “It’s in. Should I, uh, should I hold myself?  
  
“Go ahead. Don’t rub, though, just hold. Are you hard?”  
  
Steve nodded into the bed.  
  
“Good boy.” Tony touched his own thigh, slipped his fingers under the edge of the boxers until he could feel where his balls met his cock. “Fuck your hand.”  
  
Steve hesitated for a moment, adjusting his shoulders. The muscles in his back shifted and tensed beautifully under his grey t-shirt. And then he gave one slow push from the hips, paused, and gave another.  
  
“Feel good?” Tony asked.  
  
Steve answered with a huff of breath, and another slow thrust. This one ended in a grind, circling against the bed, against his hand. “It feels really good,” he said. “Really wet.”  
  
“Then go for it. Fuck your hand like it’s my ass.”  
  
Steve shuddered. “I don’t think it’s tight enough for that,” he said, but pushed forward again. Tony watched him, watched him hump the bed slow and careful, his toes curling into the sheets.  
  
“Stop for a sec,” Tony said. “Take your hand out.”  
  
Steve moaned pitifully. “But I just--”  
  
“No buts. Listen to me.”  
  
Steve obeyed, and Tony saw the shine of lube between his fingers, down his wrist. “Grab the bottle,” he said.  
  
Steve peered over his shoulder, like he wanted to pin Tony directly with that arched eyebrow, but didn’t know where to look. “I’ve already got--”  
  
“Hey, what did I say about buts?”  
  
Steve chuckled. “I don’t always pay attention to the things you say about butts, Tony. Most of it’s pretty rude.”  
  
“Hardy har, I’m cracking a rib here. Pick up the fucking bottle.”  
  
Steve did, and rolled it between his hands, propped up on his elbows.  
  
“Empty it down your pants,” Tony said.  
  
Steve recoiled, throwing an aggrieved face in the direction of the bedroom speakers. “You’re joking. No way, that would make such a mess.”  
  
“Don’t worry about it. I have people for that.”  
  
Steve flushed. “Exactly. I can’t make someone else come in here and take my sheets all covered in-- in--”  
  
“Then take them down to the laundry yourself. It’s fine, this stuff I bought you is all washable and everything. It won’t even ruin those amazing pants.”  
  
“But the bed will get all slimy.”  
  
“Ah, fuck yeah,” Tony murmured, and finally put his hand around his cock. It was totally hard, and he had to push it up so it wasn’t bent down by his balls. “Just do it, Steve, you can sleep in my bed tonight.”  
  
That seemed to do it. Steve shrugged one shoulder, and reached down to push the lube under himself, lifting his hips. His bicep flexed as he squeezed the bottle. “Wow, that’s a little cold,” he murmured.  
  
“Warm it up,” Tony said, dry-mouthed. “Empty the whole thing, fill up your pants.”  
  
It took a minute, but eventually Steve pulled out the empty bottle, and dropped it on the mattress. “Okay,” he said, shifting his hips. “Oh, my gosh, it’s all in there. That feels, um…”  
  
“Is it still cold?”  
  
Steve shook his head. “Definitely not. What do you want me to--”  
  
“Put your hands behind your back.”  
  
Steve did, clasping them loosely against the small of his spine.  
  
“Rub yourself off,” Tony said. He thumbed at the rim of his own foreskin, where it was drawn back to hug the crown of his head. “Fuck the bed, Steve.”  
  
God, it was amazing. Tony wanted to be there so bad, to pull the pants down just in the back, just enough to get himself in there. Let Steve ride him from underneath, push back onto him, stroke himself off against the bed.  
  
“Tell me how it feels,” Tony whispered, tugging himself, pushing the head of his cock into the palm of his hand.  
  
“It feels-- oh,” said Steve, thrusting once, twice. “It’s a lot, it’s-- It’s rough, but it’s so wet. I want to…”  
  
“What do you want to do?”  
  
“I want your mouth down there.”  
  
“Mm, oh yeah? Want my mouth to be that wet and slick for you, just hold my face down and fuck it?”  
  
Steve nodded, thrusting and grinding, trembling. “When you try to put your tongue up inside me, yeah.”  
  
Tony licked his bottom lip. “Right in your dick hole, you mean? It gets so wet for me, Steve, like it wants me up in there. If I could put my whole tongue in it…”  
  
Steve shivered, and slid himself back and forth against the bed. “I watched a video,” he said, “about that, sort of. But they used a-- a metal rod.”  
  
“Sounding,” said Tony.  
  
“Yeah, that was it. It looked, well, it looked like it hurt. But also like it felt pretty good.”  
  
“You want to try it?”  
  
“I don’t know.” Steve’s knees got a bit wider, and his ass clenched, driving himself down. “Maybe, if we did it slow?”  
  
“Sure,” said Tony. “I’ll get-- Don’t worry about it, I’ll figure it out.”  
  
“Okay.” Steve was almost face-down, at this point. His voice was muffled.  
  
“Move your hands,” Tony told him. “Lean up on them, like you’re going to do a push up.”  
  
“You want me to do push ups?”  
  
Actually, yeah. “Probably wouldn’t work on the bed. Maybe later. Just do it.”  
  
Slowly, Steve did as he was asked. His shoulders stood out huge and wide as he planted himself on his fists, raised up so his chest was off the bed. Tony couldn’t see from this angle, but he could imagine how soaked the bed was, how dark the front of Steve’s pants.  
  
“There you go,” Tony told him. “Now go for it, fuck the shit out of that bed. Pretend it’s me, pretend I’m there under you, tied up with my legs spread.”  
  
Steve growled, let his head drop loose and sweaty. His hips started working again. God, Tony wished he’d brought something with him, something to push up his own ass. Steve was going to town on the mattress, hammering it savagely.  
  
Tony stripped his own cock in time, held his balls and touched at his asshole with one finger, rubbed it until it was soft and fluttery. He held his dick against his belly with one palm, pushed up against it.  
  
“Tony-- I, I want to come,” Steve sobbed suddenly, broken with gasps for air. “I want to come so fucking bad.”  
  
“Go ahead,” Tony said, sharp with pleasure from the tips of his toes. “Can you? Can you come in your pants like that?”  
  
“I-- I--” Steve almost collapsed, caught himself on shaking arms, jerked and jerked against the bed. “Yeah, fuck, yes, I can.”  
  
“Got your foreskin all pulled back, just the tender head of your cock rubbing in your pants, too rough, but so good, right? You’re going to squirt all over yourself, make a big mess and push your dick through it, get it all over your belly.” Tony took a breath, licked his thumb and stroked it over the head of his cock. Spread the slit. “Give your cock fucking rug burn. Go for it, baby, jizz your fucking pants. I’m so close, I’m going to blow all over the place, come on.”  
  
Steve whined, choked, and yelped. His hips jammed against the bed so hard the headboard rattled. “I’m coming,” he cried, “holy fuck, oh, Tony, I’m fucking coming.”  
  
Tony bucked up, squeezed his cock. He couldn’t tear his eyes off Steve, who was seizing on the mattress, collapsed down on his elbows, grinding and twitching. He completely missed the view of his own cock shooting off, but he sure as fuck felt it, the twisting pleasure of it that grabbed his balls in a vice and wrung them out.  
  
Steve went face-down into the bed, still jerking his hips, and Tony folded up around his own ejaculating cock, felt it fill up his bellybutton and drip down his sides. “Mother of _fuck_ ,” he snarled.  
  
“Oh, my God, oh, my God,” Steve was saying over and over, pushing fitfully into his own mess, fists full of sheet.  
  
“Get up,” Tony said. “Come on, hurry, stand up.”  
  
“No,” Steve said pitifully. “I can’t.”  
  
“Yes you can, up on your feet.”  
  
Steve rolled sideways, loose and pliant, and oh yeah, there it was. A wet dark patch a foot wide beneath him, the whole crotch and thighs of his pants and halfway up his shirt.  
  
“There’s a camera in the bookshelf,” Tony said. “You’ll see it. It’s little and round.”  
  
Steve slid off the bed, caught himself with one hand and rose on shaky bowlegs. “Why?” he asked.  
  
“Security,” said Tony.  
  
“No, why do you want me to--”  
  
“Take your pants off.”  
  
Steve did, carefully, kicking them aside and nearly falling over as he hopped out of one leg and then the other. He wasn’t wearing underwear, and Tony could see that his cock was only half soft, still plumped up and wet. Steve reached for it, but Tony barked, “Don’t touch, just leave it.”  
  
Steve made a breathless hurt sound.  
  
“Go to the camera,” Tony said, and the screen view switched over to the angle in question. Bless Jarvis’ pervy little heart. Steve approached from the waist down. Tony wanted to stand up and lick the screen.  
  
“Let me see,” he murmured. “Come here, get right up to it.”  
  
Steve complied, and the view of his cock and balls took up the whole screen.  
  
“Aw, baby,” Tony said. “Look how red you are. Does it hurt?”  
  
“No. Not yet.”  
  
It was like stubble burn all over Steve’s crotch, across his foreskin and the tiny bit of the head still poking through. “Can you touch it?” Tony asked. “Just be gentle. Pull it open a little.”  
  
Steve was ginger, lifting his cock with the tips of his fingers. He slid back the foreskin incrementally, and stopped. “I can’t,” he said. “It’s so--”  
  
“Sure you can.” Tony realised he was leaning forward. “I know it’s sensitive, I know. Please, I want to see.”  
  
Steve touched his thumb against a slick of lube on his hip, wetting it, and nudged back the foreskin a little farther. His hole gaped open, winked shut.  
  
“Wow,” said Tony under his breath. It was clotted with jizz under there, caught behind the crown and in the folds of skin. “You are so fucking sexy, oh my God.”  
  
Steve made an obscene pumping gesture toward the camera, and held his dick gently in one fist. The tip of it came closer and closer, and kissed against the lens. It left a smear.  
  
“Don’t wash, okay?” Tony said suddenly. “Just put your clothes on over all that mess, and when I get home, I’m going to go down on your for like an hour, and lick it all off.”  
  
“Okay,” said Steve. He thumbed his slit again, held it open for Tony to see. It was pink and slick inside. Tony wanted his tongue in there so bad.  
  
Steve leaned down suddenly, and kissed the camera with his actual lips. “I miss you,” he said.  
  
Tony grinned. “I’ll be home as soon as I fucking can be, baby,” he said. “Go put on your suit.”  
  
Still bent over with his face near the lens, Steve wrinkled his nose. “The suit is the problem, actually.”  
  
Tony paused in the middle of wiping his stomach with a nearby pillow. “Problem? What problem?”  
  
“The whole…” Steve made a strange motion with his hands. A sort of two-fisted fondling-a-horse gesture. “…erection problem.”  
  
Tony threw the pillow on the floor. “From where I’m sitting, there wasn’t much of a problem with it.”  
  
“It’s why I called,” Steve told him. He crouched down on his haunches so he was level with the camera. “Why I wanted to have sex before the benefit. I get, well, I _react_ …”  
  
Tony reached over the side of the bed and found his discarded shirts. “Are you trying to tell me that the suit turns you on?”  
  
Steve was going pink all down his neck, and that might have been the sex flush, but Tony thought probably not.  
  
“Not in so many words,” Steve mumbled. “It’s just… Okay, so, remember when I told you that, after the serum, I felt things more keenly, and got better sensation?”  
  
Tony let a big dirty grin creep across his face, and paired it up with a raunchy chuckle, because yeah, he remembered that conversation, and he remembered the rest of that evening equally well.  
  
Steve’s blush ramped up a notch, hit the top of his cheekbones. “Stop that, it’s not funny. I’m trying to tell you something.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, go ahead,” Tony said, but he didn’t stop smiling. He pulled his tee-shirt back on.  
  
“My whole cardiovascular system was improved, I guess,” Steve continued after a second, eyes fever-bright against the red of his cheeks. “I don’t get cold easily, and it helps my reaction times.”  
  
“I know,” Tony said, because he did. He’d taken it as his solemn duty to memorize every piece of information Erskine had ever scribbled in the margins of a coffee-soaked napkin, if it pertained to Steve.  
  
“It also makes it really easy for me to get a hard-on.”  
  
Tony stuck one arm into his suit jacket and stopped. He ruminated for a moment on the reality of Steve saying ‘hard-on.’ “I see,” he said at last. “And I’ve noticed that, actually. You pop wood at really random times.”  
  
Like while ordering pizza. Or picking a movie on Netflix. Or shopping online ( _actually_ shopping, not ‘shopping’). Or walking through Macy’s (over Tony’s protests). Or playing Mario Kart. It was both fascinating, titillating, and a little concerning.  
  
“Oh, my God,” Steve hissed. “You noticed?”  
  
“Duh.” Tony shoved his other arm into the jacket, and started doing up the buttons. “I stare at your cock all the time. And your ass. It would be surprising if I didn’t notice.”  
  
“Has anyone else seen?” Steve’s voice rose to a squeak. “Are they just too polite to say anything?”  
  
“Probably.” Tony shrugged, and peered down to make sure the Van Halen logo couldn’t been seen through the V of the jacket. “I’m sure no one minds. Your erection is a thing of beauty, Steve. Especially if you’re wearing sweat pants, or those tight little briefs, my God.”  
  
Steve covered his face with both (lubed-up) hands. “This is a nightmare,” he moaned between his fingers. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”  
  
Tony threw up both hands. “I’m sorry, I assumed you knew when you had a woody!”  
  
“Well, I did, but not that people could see it!”  
  
Tony leaned back on his palms. “Have you ever actually seen your penis? It’s huge. There’s nothing inconspicuous about it.”  
  
“This is exactly what I mean!” Steve dropped his hands, and leaned in to menace the camera. “This is why I wanted to have sex before I went, so that I wouldn’t pop a huge boner on live television, and completely mortify myself and the team in front of millions of people.”  
  
Tony nodded, made an O of understanding with his mouth. “That’s a great plan. Good thinking.”  
  
“Thank you!” Steve snapped. “This new suit makes it worse, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. The waist is so tight, and the… the crotch area is, too. I can’t hide anything in there, and it rubs me, and-- and I just keep getting harder.”  
  
“Wait, wait just a second.” Tony slithered off the bed, and went closer to the screen. “Is that why you went to the bathroom for like, half an hour at the museum the other day?”  
  
“Yes!” Steve slapped one hand on the bookshelf in front of the camera. It shook. “That is exactly why. I had to jerk off in a public bathroom in a _museum_ , Tony, because I was about to come in my trousers if I had to do one more lap around the Egypt exhibit.”  
  
Tony couldn’t help himself; he laughed. “Oh, man, could you imagine the look on the mayor’s face if you had? Actually, she seemed pretty into you. She might have offered to help.”  
  
Steve stood up abruptly, and Tony watched his bare ass make its self-righteous way back toward the bed.  
  
“Hey, hold on,” Tony said, quickly modulating his voice into the apologetic range. “I’m sorry, I’m laughing with you, not at you.”  
  
“I’m not laughing, Tony.”  
  
“Well, maybe you should be. This isn’t such a crisis. You have the right idea, getting off before putting on the suit. Maybe we just need to take that up a notch. Like, marathon jerk-off beforehand. Three hours of edging. Completely exhaust you. You can go, like, four times in a row.”  
  
“I know.” Steve groaned, and Tony watched his feet and legs flop back on the bed. Without being asked, Jarvis dutifully switched back to a wide-angle view of the room.  
  
“Listen,” said Tony suddenly. “I’ve got a wonderful idea.” A wonderful _awful_ idea, in the spirit of the Grinch.  
  
Steve lifted his head from the bed. “What is it?”  
  
Tony opened his mouth, and then nearly fell on his ass when someone started pounding on the door.  
  
“Tony!” Pepper bellowed. “I know you’re in there! Jarvis told me Steve called. Are you having phone sex? Are you seriously having phone sex in there when you should be having a conference call with the board of directors?”  
  
“Uh, no!” Tony said, which wasn’t a lie. “I’m not having phone sex, I promise!”  
  
Onscreen, Steve was scrambling to pull the blankets around his waist. “Tony, is Pepper there?” he squawked. “Turn off the video!”  
  
“I can hear him!” Pepper yelled. “You guys are having _cyber_ sex!”  
  
“Oh, Jesus,” Tony said. “I’m coming out, Pep, just hold your pink horses!” To the screen, he said, “Don’t worry, your dignity’s intact. Well, you know. Relatively speaking. I’ve gotta go, I’m really sorry. You did fucking amazing, we’re watching that video together later. Just remember, I’ve got a great idea. I think it will work. Remind me when I get home. I gotta go, the hand of God has spoken.”  
  
He leaned forward and kissed the screen where Steve’s head was, because no one had to know about that. “See you in a couple hours, bye!”  
  
“--bye,” said Steve, as Jarvis shut down the feed.  
  
Tony scrambled for the door, just as Pepper was starting to jimmy open the lock with a hair pin. “Holy crap, Pep,” he said, nearly bowling her over. “Take a chill pill. Take six. I’ve got a whole bottle by the minibar, just let me--”  
  
Pepper grabbed his arm, tucked it through hers, and started hauling him through the lounge toward the conference room door. “Don’t even,” she said. “You smell like sperm.”  
  
Tony got a shiver down his spine. “Say that again,” he said, “in exactly that tone of voice.”  
  
Pepper gave him a disgusted look, and shoved him unceremoniously through the door. Tony stumbled, caught himself on the wall, and straightened up to meet the wrinkled, disapproving glowers of four geriatric business investors peering out of a giant plasma display.  
  
“Wassup, guys?” he said.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> There's going to be a sequel and/or second chapter to this, probably some time soon. (I know, you are all so invested in the advancement of this highly in-depth plot.) 
> 
> Mad dope props to my homedawg, Yentl, for beta'ing the shit out of this thing, and being unendingly enthusiastic about my many and varied perversions. You are the sparkle beneath my pegasus wings. <3


End file.
